


ease

by PandaHero



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Depression, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, homusaya friendship is very important to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaHero/pseuds/PandaHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes she wants to waste away on her couch,<br/>Sometimes someone stops her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ease

Homura doesn’t know if she’s dreaming the knocks or not.

She’s been drifting in and out of sleep on her living room couch for three days, becoming more unsure of what’s reality with each passing minute. She never knows if the sunlight filtering through the window is actually snow, if it’s been piling up in hills and burying her alive. She should close the window.

But no one’s knocking on the window.

The knocking gets more persistent, and there’s a voice on the other side.

“Homura,” it says.

She wants to go to the other side.

Shifting position, Homura slowly turns onto her stomach, pushing herself up. It makes her chest hurt, her head pound. Next, she swings her legs over the edge of the couch, standing on shaking legs. Finally, she takes a deep, shuddering breath, and moves to answer the door.

Upon opening it, she sees the last person she expected.

“Sayaka,” she speaks in a rasping whisper, throat blocked and sore, unused to speech.

“You answered the door,” Sayaka says, “That’s a good start.” She reaches forward, running two fingers along Homura’s neck, feeling for her pulse point. She gives a satisfied nod when she finds it. “You’re not dead, that’s good.”

Homura flinches away, stepping back from the door. She fights not to lose her balance and Sayaka stares, eyes hard.

“Wh-What-”

“Don’t speak.”

Homura does as she’s told, watching as Sayaka kicks her shoes off, closing the door. Her eyes roam Homura’s living room, noting how uncharacteristically _messy_ it is.

The blanket on the couch looks filthy, there are empty ramen cups all over the coffee table, and the tie from Homura’s uniform lay crumpled on the floor, wrinkled beyond repair.

Homura herself doesn’t look much better; she’s sickly pale, under the fluorescent lights of the apartment she looked to be a grayish white. Her hair has gone stringy, and when Sayaka brushed it aside looking for a pulse it was oily to the touch.

“Start your kettle, I’m gonna go run a bath.”

Again, Homura does as she’s told, refilling and starting the kettle. She leans heavily on the kitchen counter, breathless. The couch is calling her back to its clutches.The sun shines on it like it’s the only thing in the room, enticing Homura into walking back towards it. Even the ramen-stained blanket looks good in the light, it looks soft and warm and perfect for burying herself in. Someone grabs the back of her collar.

“No.” 

Sayaka.

“Please,” Homura breathes, legs shaking with weakness.

“No,” is Sayaka’s answer. 

She leads Homura to the bathroom, glancing back at her every few seconds. When Homura’s hands are too heavy, too shaky, Sayaka comes close and begins undoing the buttons of her shirt. She hums when Homura starts shaking, shushes her when she starts crying. She helps Homura into the tub as she blubbers, whispering over and over how she doesn’t mind. She starts washing Homura’s hair.

“I don’t deserve this,” Homura says, staring at the water. 

“You do. After this, I’m going to make you tea, and you’re coming to Mami’s for a proper meal.”

Homura looks up at her, eyes welling with tears again. “Why,” she says.

“Because we love you,” Sayaka responds.


End file.
